Dead Kept

A shopping cart adrift in the wind skies of angels Hey man, he was shouting. Waving red chapped fists. I’m a sinner now. In some areas Started singing, his eyes glittering like the shaved moon. Kept remembering the feeling in a way Kept finding it hard, kept finding defeat, wanting a way out of our hometown. I don’t really know What happened. Memorial of meth town, really reeling in the think how Of chills and steeping in a lukewarm teacup of your death Eerie, my brother. A week before Thursday talking in your sleep Now. You’re going. Now, you’re going. But he’s already gone Now the suit, like we’re all going to a party A celebration of painful drink Spilling like ribbon, it is required. Pastel gloom of chalk-faced saints and clockwork Jesus Panting, his body mangled, forms a cross. His face I can’t understand As if moaning, “you get used to it after a while.”